


The Escape

by arcanicEmbers



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9869603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanicEmbers/pseuds/arcanicEmbers
Summary: Waylon Park is out of the Asylum, but with a crippled leg and a deep wound in his stomach, how can he make it home alive?There's at least one way...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Idea came from Cultofthepigeon, I just wrote it out because it seemed like a fun situation!

Waylon would have liked to stop and take a breath of fresh air for the first time in God only knew how long, but he did not have the time for it. 

Trying to escape Mount Massive Asylum was inarguably the worst experience of his life, and he was hobbling his way out of the hospital as fast as his injured body could carry him. 

In truth, the man wasn’t sure that he’d actually make it very far. Some small part of him had already given up and resigned itself to dying, and was just sitting in the corner of his mind, awaiting the inevitable. He couldn’t make it very far, could he? His leg had a hole the size of a child’s fist in it from the splinter, and he had no idea if Blair had managed to stab something vital in his gut. All he knew was that blood was continuing to flow out of the wound, and he wanted to stop and rest.

No. He couldn’t give up. He was outside. He was breathing fresh air and he could feel dirt underneath his feet. Coming this far just to give up would be like spitting in the face of whatever merciful God had allowed him to leave. Not to mention what Lisa would think.

He had managed to get to the gates by that point, and there was a car there. An unfamiliar jeep. Nobody who worked there drove a jeep like that, so who-? 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter who brought it there, where they were (although they were likely dead), or why. All that mattered was that maybe the car had a phone, or maybe he could figure out a way to get it going. Hell, he’d even give hot wiring it a go if needed. He opened the door-

The beeping startled him, made him jump and sent pain to every still working nerve ending in his body. But oh, he knew that sound. It was the sound of keys in the ignition. God truly was smiling down on him. Slowly, painfully, he slid into the seat and turned the car on, taking a second to listen to the engine and leaning back against the seat.

Wait a second. What was... There was something by the door. He picked up the camera he’d stolen and used it to zoom up on the figure.

Oh shit. The thing by the door- The Walrider. Was it coming after him? He couldn’t tell, he’d never been able too. There were times in the asylum when it seemed like the creature was going to find him, but it had mostly ignored him. Why now? Why when he was almost free?

Something bothered him about the creature. It was... more human shaped then it had been before. But there wasn’t time to think about that. He had to get away, and even if that thing could fly faster than he could run, it might not be able to catch up with a car.

He put the jeep into drive, let go of his stomach to grab the wheel and turned, taking a few precious seconds to line it up with the gate. If he didn’t hit it right the first time, there probably wouldn’t be a second chance. 

He slammed on the gas, the cloud wrapped around the jeep and he was free, again.

The car picked up speed, and it became a race. Just how fast was this thing? He’d never been involved, didn’t know any of the details, and it seemed more like it was clinging to the car than falling behind.

There was a thud against the car. He flinched and tried to pick up speed, but the pedal wasn’t budging under his foot. Had something slipped under it? The camera was in the cupholder, there hadn’t really been anything else and- 

The passenger side door flew open and he screamed, eyes darting between the cloud swarming in through the door and the road as he tried to keep the car from crashing, because even if this thing was going to kill him, some instinct wanted him to try and keep himself alive.

Nanoparticles swarmed around his hands and he continued to scream, resisting the urge to let go of the wheel. Damn, damn it all! He’d gotten out, why had Murkoff’s terror child followed him all the way from the Asylum to-

… Wait.

It wasn’t actually hurting him, though it did tingle for a moment. It had made a strange set of gloves around his hands, and though he could still move them, it felt more like the.. Walrider was driving?

The door slammed shut and he jumped, finally letting go of the wheel. Fine, if the nanoparticle cloud wanted to drive, it could drive as much as it damn well pleased-

“Stop screaming. I have a headache,” a voice snapped. His mouth abruptly closed. He hadn’t even realized he’d continued screaming. But the Swarm shouldn’t be able to get a headache, nor should it be able to speak. Who, than? 

The cloud settled a bit, moving around to make the cabin clearer, and he glanced in the seat next to him. Underneath the Walrider was a man. A very tired looking man, whose eyes were closed. He had brown hair, and a jacket over what might have once been a white shirt, but was currently stained red and riddled with bullet holes. 

The blood looked... fresh. He tried not to think about that one too much. 

One eye cracked open to look back at him, and his own eyes shot away. No, eye contact wasn’t good, eye contact got attention, and attention got people killed. Instead, they drifted to the badge hanging on the rear view mirror. 

A press badge-

If there had been any color left in him, it would have paled away at the thought. An unfamiliar jeep, belonging to someone with a press badge, and a stranger who seemed very at home in the jeep meant this was… Oh no. Fuck. 

He had thought his email had gone unanswered. He figured that he’d sent it too late, the place had went to shit and nobody would ever come to reveal the truth.

But sitting next to him- It had to be. Miles Upshur. He’d gained a reputation for going above and beyond what most people considered sane for a story, which was why Waylon had sent him the email in the first place. And that man had gone through hell because of him, and… 

Looked like he was the new host of the Walrider. The cloud that could kill anyone as easily as a man could breath. 

Waylon’s hands, having been freed from the task of driving, had gone back to holding his stomach in place. What was he supposed to do? The man was studying him, probably wondering how to exact revenge for inviting him to Mount Massive in the first place. Should he open the door and jump out? … No, they were going to fast, and he was almost sure that the Walrider would be the quicker death, all things considered. Unless the journalist wanted to torture him, in which case jumping out of the car was the way to go-

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” The words got a startled noise out of him, but they were spoken differently than before. His tone was less snappy, gentler, and even almost sympathetic. 

Of course. He was in a patient outfit, Miles... probably didn’t realize that it was his fault- Okay, he could… explain, in due time. Yes, he would definitely explain, but maybe after the car stopped moving and he could move without threat of his internal organs falling out, and-

Why was it slowing down!? They were still on the open road, a good distance from anything resembling civilization. The man in the passenger seat opened the door and stepped out, leaving it open. The cloud remained in the car, moving off of his hands as Miles walked around and opened the driver’s side door, gesturing for him to get out?

... Was the man going to just abandon him there? Did he already know that it was his fault?

He snorted, as if he could read Waylon’s thoughts. “Get in the passenger's seat. I’m not just gonna ditch you on the side of the road. What kind of an asshole do you take me for?”

“O-okay.” It was the first thing he’d actually spoken, though he didn’t move immediately. Oh, this was going to hurt. He needed to figure out a way to carefully wiggle out of the seat. 

“Do you need help?” 

Or he could get help.

“... I, ah, might need... a little bit of help.” 

He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for this man, who he stilled assumed to be Miles Upshur, to offer a hand. Something simple, a small degree of help.

Instead, he suddenly found himself surrounded by the cloud and he felt himself trying to scream because oh God, had he finally decided to just go ahead and make the Walrider kill him? 

No, it turned out. He felt himself float out of the car seat, carefully, and he-

He blacked out a little. 

When he came to, he was in the passenger seat and the other man was driving, and the cloud was swarming around his stomach. It was probably digging into his wound and getting a grip on his intestines to pull them out.

“No, I’m not going to kill you. Please don’t start screaming again.” 

Waylon bit his tongue and glanced over at the man. Even as he spoke, he never took his eyes off the road.

“H-how are you doing that?” It was hard to talk. He felt like he hadn’t had anything to drink in his life, ever. The man still didn’t take his eyes off the road, though it looked like he was tempted. “How are you, uh… reading my mind?”

“The Walrider is... relying your thoughts to me while it fixes you. And to answer your questions; Yes, I am Miles Upshur. No, I’m not going to kill, torture, or otherwise maim you for sending me that email. From what I gather, shit hadn’t hit the fan by the time you wrote that?”

“No, it hadn’t.” The feeling of nanoparticles against his skin was... bizarre. But he was losing feeling in the area and, whether that was because of the thing ‘fixing’ him or the blood loss, he was almost thankful for it. 

He looked down at his skin, flinched at the sight, then turned back to Miles, who was still staring determinedly at the road. 

“There’s, um.. a diner.” He received a half second glance as a sign of acknowledgment. “It’s in town. I mean, the next town. That’s... still about half an hour away, uh... h-how far do you live from here?”

“It took me most of the day to drive there,” came the muttered response. Okay, he did not want to talk about this. “I was planning to get a hotel after a quick visit to scope out the Asylum.”

The unspoken words still hit him. Yeah, that hadn’t happened. 

“Well, um, like I said, there’s a… diner. If you could just, uh, drop me off there, I could-”

“Think that through, for a second.” Once again, he got a half a second glance from Miles. “You look like you just escaped an asylum, and believe me, that’s not something that people will react well too. I’m not sure what you plan on doing there, but just think.” 

The man. . . had a point. He didn’t have anything on him but the clothes on his back and the batteries in his pocket. No money, nothing. He couldn’t use a payphone to call Lisa to get him, and he doubted anyone would actually let him use their phone looking like this. 

Fuck.

“You make a very good argument. I… Don’t know what I’m going to.” 

“Like I said, I was planning on getting a hotel. I have some spare clothes, and it looks like we’re about the same height. You can borrow a set.”

That… okay, that worked. Granted, he’d still be sort of blood stained, but it’d be hidden, for the most part. One hand idly reached up to poke at his stomach wound and the cloud grabbed it and moved it away with a short, sharp buzz.

“It’s telling you not to do that,” Miles translated. 

“How well can you control this thing?” He asked, putting his hand back by his side. Nope, he wasn’t going to piss off the Walrider, not as long as he could avoid it. “I mean, it seems to be doing what you want...” 

“It’s got a will of it’s own,” the man replied, and Waylon almost panicked, for a moment. “Thankfully,” he continued, “it seems to be very keen on keeping me alive and relatively happy.”

Well, if he had control of it, maybe… “You, uh... you’re not planning on driving home today, are you?”

“I have no idea,” came the response. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” 

“... If you want, you could stay a couple of days with me and my wife. I...” He made a gesture to his stomach, keeping his hand from getting too close so as not to bother the Walrider. “I owe you for this. And for not kicking me out. And for-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He stared at the road and went silent, for a few moments. “The Walrider can hide from sight while I’m there. Now... where’s this diner?”

“H-huh? Oh, it’s, uh...” Waylon paused to familiarize himself with the road. “Um, take the... Not the next exit or the one after that, but the, uh, third one.”

“Alright.” His focus remained on the road. For a few seconds, there was silence. It was only broken by a startled shout from Waylon as the particles abandoned his stomach and drifted down to the hole in the leg.”

He glanced down, carefully pulling back a useless piece of shirt to look at the skin underneath. Oh, he hadn’t gotten away unscathed. It was a messy mass of scar tissue. But it was in one piece, and he wasn’t bleeding out anymore, and that was more than he could have dreamed.

“Ah, by... by the way. My name is Waylon.” Another half second glance.

“I can’t tell if this is how you usually are, or if you’re still freaking out. You wouldn’t be alone if it’s the latter.” Was the man really implying that he was freaking out too? He seemed very calm and collected-

Which, he supposed, could be a reaction to fear. Essentially shutting down in order to make simple, rational decisions. 

“It’s, a… bit of both? I’m not usually this bad, but...”

“I understand, believe me.”

“...”

 

“Yes?”

“Do you, uh... have a phone?”

He watched as Miles reached down into the pocket beneath the handle on the drives side door and retrieved a phone, offering it to him.

“Thank you.” It was morning, about... seven or so, probably. He dialed their home number and held the phone to his ear, listening as it rang. Oh, please let her answer, he wasn’t sure when the last time he’d heard her voice was, but even just a second would be Heaven for him-

“Hello?” Oh, thank the Lord. She sounded tired and angry, but it really was her, and he drank in her voice like it was water. 

“Lisa, it’s me, Waylon.” The other end went silent, and he could feel his heart pounding. The car was spinning- was it because of nerves or how much blood he’d lost? He wasn’t actually sure. “L-Lisa? Are you okay? Please, please talk to me baby, are you-?”

“I’m fine, I’m- Waylon, what happened? I got a visit from some Murkoff asshole saying you were diagnosed with something illness and if I contested it they’d- Hang on.” He listened as she stepped away from the phone to calm down their son. Jacob was always a little bit antsy in the morning, especially on school days.

Even just hearing her in the background was a godsend to him. He had been worried for so long that he’d never get to see her again; that he’d leave her with only a dead body and a tape full of horror that led to it, and now it looked like he was actually going to make it home. 

He couldn’t wait to be able to hold her in his arms, solid proof that he truly was free from the nightmare that was Murkoff’s influence. 

“Alright, I’m here,” she stated as soon as she was back on the phone. “What happened? Are you okay?”

And it was hard to say, because part of his mind didn’t want to admit it, but. . . “Everything’s going to be okay. They, uh... They were doing bad things there, Lisa. And I had to... I had to do something, and they found out, and they admitted me to keep things quiet. But it’s okay, I’m out, everything’s going to be okay. I’ll... I’ll explain in more detail later, I just... I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“Where are you now? Do I need to come pick you up?”

“I, uh... I’m in a car with another person- He, um, got caught up in this mess too. His. . . his name is Miles and without him I’d be-... I wouldn’t be here. He’s, uh- He’s from out of town, I offered to let him stay with us for a little while.”

“Alright. So, am I picking you up, or are you going to give him directions? Or... Would it be easier if I drove down there to pick you up and lead him here? I can... I can drop Jacob off at school and meet you wherever you are.”

“O-okay. Yes, uh, we’re going to... I think we’re going to stop at the diner, you know the one. Y-yes, we’ll meet you there. Yes, da- Yes, honey, I’m fine, Miles is an okay guy. I love you, I’ll see you soon.”


End file.
